And she didn’t want any more of those slaps.
“Joe Hawke,” she began, “is a former sergeant in the Special Boat Service, or the SBS. It’s the Royal Navy equivalent of the British Army’s SAS, and a seriously tough outfit of Special Forces operatives. They’re dangerous men and they usually work without a formal commander.”
“We know this. We have men like this. Tell me things I don’t know.”
She flinched when she heard some rustling, but then came the unmistakable sound of a Zippo lighter. A second later the smell of strong cigarette smoke drifted over to her, followed by a deep, satisfied sigh.
She continued. “He was a commissioned officer in the Royal Marines Commandos, rising to the rank of major, but demoted to sergeant a few years after being recruited by the SBS.”
“Why?”
“He was reduced in rank after going absent without leave.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…” she heard the man’s clothes rustle as he raised his hand to strike her. “I swear I don’t know! It’s the truth. He went AWOL a few years ago when he was about to be deployed abroad during an important mission. He never told me why, just that he had something more important to do. I always presumed that meant family, but all he told me was that he was lucky not to have been thrown out of the armed forces altogether. I guess that didn’t happen because he’s so highly skilled and experienced.”
The rustling stopped. “Interesting. When did you first cross paths with Mr Hawke?”
“During a joint US-UK mission in the Balkans. He was on a covert mission to infiltrate a terror group and I helped him escape from them. He always said I’d saved his life and he owed me forever.” Despite the terror she was feeling, she almost smiled at the memory.
“And why are you so interested in Ancient Egypt?”
“I’m sorry?” The question had come out of nowhere — she recognized it as a classic technique to disorient people during interrogations. She thought for the first time that maybe these people did this for a living — or had done once in the past, at least.
“We have been watching you for a long time — in fact since the first time you started working for Hawke and Eden. After that we started, how shall we say — listening into your life.”
“You hacked me?”
“Don’t be so surprised. Your reputation as a computer genius is well-founded, but a former KGB man like me is not without certain contacts. It was not hard for me to find someone to hack you, and what we found was very interesting, as you know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man sighed again, and with no warning tore the sack off her head. She blinked in the bright light and saw opposite her a broad-faced man with dark hair and thin lips. Three thick scars ran down the side of his face.
“Don’t play stupid games with me. You know what we’re talking about. You have been researching the Map of Immortality in great detail, and your research is excellent, but of more interest to me is the person you speak with on email — codename Mercurio.”
She flicked a glance at the man and immediately gave herself away. Now she knew why they had taken her — they wanted her to get to someone else. Someone who was critical to the search for the map.
He laughed. “Thank you for confirming you know Mercurio. This makes me happy, but the only problem I have now is that I do not know what Mercurio’s real name is, or where he sleeps through the night. You will furnish me with this information.”
“And what if I don’t know it?” It was a gamble, but worth a try.
“I know you do. It is obvious from your email exchanges that you know each other’s real names and addresses.”
She was cornered, and she felt an indignant rage rise in her at being treated this way. “I just can’t tell you what you want to know, whoever the hell you are!”
The man stroked her face with his cigarette hand, his expression almost approaching something like admiration. “I think you could be persuaded,” was all he said as he left the room.
“It’s time he knew — is he in or out?”
Sir Richard Eden MP spun slowly in his chair and watched the mist roll over the River Thames. London was cold tonight. He considered her words carefully. She was right, of course, but there was more to the problem than she knew.
“Richard?”
He turned back to face her. To say she was good-looking was an understatement, although there was a sad coldness to her face that made most men wary. Her hair was black, and she wore it up, no-nonsense. Black fingernail polish, lean, slim arms. She drummed the arm of her chair.
“What?” he asked, finally.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Hawke. Is he in or out?”
A long silence. “As you know, Scarlet, I’ll need to talk to Lea about that, and she’s in New York, as we both know.” He paused a beat as he watched her reaction, then he spoke again. “But what do you think?”
“He’s an arrogant bastard but the best there is. I say he’s in.”
Eden nodded vehemently. “He would bring valuable skills and experience to us, but…” his voice drifted. “It’s a long way to Elysium.”
Even though he had uttered it, the word caught Eden off-guard. Could a man like Joe Hawke be brought to a place like Elysium? Perhaps, he considered, but then again, perhaps not. It wasn’t the kind of place to which you invited just anyone, that was for sure.
He glanced once again at Scarlet Sloane, and it seemed like she was in agreement. “It is a long way, yes, but much quicker since you bought your new jet.”
“Talking of which,” Eden said, changing the subject. “You might need to use it soon. We have information about the Chinese double agent Zhang Xiaoli, otherwise known as Dragonfly.”
Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “Is she dead, or it is bad news?”
Eden gave her a sarcastic glance. “As we both know, she was last seen flying to Berlin with a Russian whom Sheng had paid to take the Tesla device to Tokyo. The Russian’s name was Yevgeny Sorokin, a medium-level player in the Moscow underworld who double-crossed Sheng because he decided he wanted to live forever.”
“A modest goal.”
“Quite, but he was a very dangerous individual.”
“Was?”
“He was shot and killed in an ambush when he was with Zhang outside Tegel Airport in Berlin moments after leaving customs. He’d barely been on German soil fifteen minutes. We believe the assassin was Kamchatka.”
Scarlet leaned forward, her interest finally roused. “You mean Kodiak?”
Eden nodded. The Russians called the hired killer Kamchatka, named after the brown bear. For their own reasons the CIA and MI6 had renamed him Kodiak. Either way, he was one of the most ruthless professional killers on the market, and renowned for his total lack of ethics and extremely ruthless methods. “The very same — Ekel Kvashnin.”
Scarlet considered the new information for a few moments. “But I thought he’d retired.”
“Apparently not. He’s in the field and active and I hardly need to tell you how bloody dangerous he is. We think he was trying to kill Zhang as well as Sorokin and get his hands on the map.”
“Lexi’s being hunted by the Kodiak?”
Eden nodded grimly.
“Good,” Scarlet said sharply. “She bloody well deserves it.”